Consequently, when he perceived Archie, he got a bit of a shock. 

 “Hullo—ullo—ullo!” said Archie, advancing happily. 

 “Archie, darling, this is father,” said Lucille. 

 “Good Lord!” said Archie. 

 There was one of those silences. Mr. Brewster looked at Archie. Archie gazed at Mr. Brewster. Lucille, perceiving without understanding why that the big introduction scene had stubbed its toe on some unlooked-for obstacle, waited anxiously for enlightenment. Meanwhile, Archie continued to inspect Mr. Brewster, and Mr. Brewster continued to drink in Archie. 

 After an awkward pause of about three and a quarter minutes, Mr. Brewster swallowed once or twice, and finally spoke. 

 “Lu!” 

 “Yes, father?” 

 “Is this true?” 

 Lucille’s grey eyes clouded over with perplexity and apprehension. 

 “True?” 

 “Have you really inflicted this—this on me for a son-in-law?” Mr. Brewster swallowed a few more times, Archie the while watching with a frozen fascination the rapid shimmying of his new relative’s Adam’s-apple. “Go away! I want to have a few words alone with this—This—wassyourdamname?” he demanded, in an overwrought manner, addressing Archie for the first time. 

 “I told you, father. It’s Moom.” 

 “Moom?” 

 “It’s spelt M-o-f-f-a-m, but pronounced Moom.” 

 “To rhyme,” said Archie, helpfully, “with Bluffinghame.” 

 “Lu,” said Mr. Brewster, “run away! I want to speak to-to-to—” 

 “You called me this before,” said Archie. 

 “You aren’t angry, father, dear?” said Lucilla. 

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